The product of your faults
by bloodedlife94
Summary: A wrong boy who lived story. Drowning in loneliness his most trusted companions are a snake and two globes of crimson red that fills his vision whenever he sleeps. Slash: HP/DM, HP/TMR;HP/LV
1. Prelude

The product of your faults

Summary:  
A wrong boy who lived story. Drowning in loneliness his most trusted companions are a snake and two globes of crimson red that fills his vision whenever he sleeps.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. If I had the opportunity to imperio J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter would never have married Ginny. He would have been in a hot and smexy sexy relationship with my lovely Draco and have smoking hot *cough* every night.

Warnings: This is a quite dark and heavy story: Dark harry, violence, suicide attempt, murder, Sexual interaction between minor and adult (age at least 16, completely consensual).

There is slash in this story. You have been forewarned, so go fuck yourself if you don't like this.

Pairings: HP/DM, HP/TMR;HP/LV,

**Prelude**

The small child shivered as wind seeped through the crack underneath the door, embracing his body and ruffling the slight unruly thick locks of ebony hair. Shuffling further away from the door, he pressed himself against the cold wall, hand squeezed inside of a small crack to retrieve his only friend though the time he had been here. Warmth met his fingers as they touched the scaly Surface of his small friend as he removed her from the crack which he usually hid.

"_hello my hatchling_" a voice hissed, while its owner slid up and wrapped itself around the child to keep him warm.

"_h-hello loved one_" the child whispered in an afraid voice that played against the wind in a melodically tone.

"_Are they asleep my hatchling?_"

The child hesitated before answering, listening for any sound that the wind might lead towards him.

"_Yes, the lights have been off for a while now and the wind has not spoken_"

A forked tongue flickered out against his ear, before the head of the snake rested in the crook of the child's neck. Snuggling against the snake the child laid down of the battered mattress pressed against the wall before covering himself with the thin blanket that had his name written on it.

"_Why won't my human mother get me, love?_" the child asked his warm grass coloured eyes dimming slightly as he asked a question he had asked multiple times before. Foolish hope filled the child once again as he looked at his most trusted companion hoping that she might have an answer, or actually know how to find his mother. Coppery red filled his vision as he closed his eyes, and for a moment the child believed he might have seen her. His mother. But once again, the colour narrowed into two globes of crimson red that filled him with unusual warmth that slowly swept him away from his freezing conscious state.

"_We are all you need my hatchling. All you need, and all you will ever need_" the snake hissed to the now sleeping child. If only her master was here to accompany her and her hatchling, then they would be safe. Safe from those people he called family. Safe from those muggles.

AN:  
English is not my first language, so if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes please just ignore them.  
So this is my first HP story ever xD


	2. Chapter 1

Dunk….Dunk….Dunk

Bleary eyes blinked open at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Curling in on himself he tried to become as small as possible while pushing away the heavy snake to hide her from sight.

"_Stay safe_" he whispered before turning his head towards the door, where the metallic sound of unlocking multiple locks could be heard. The door creaked loudly as to warn the child while the wind blew faster towards the space where the child lay curled. It surrounded him in a blanket of coldness, caressing his hair in a way that his mother used to. In a matter of mere seconds the door was slammed open and bright warm light filled the small secluded space of the cupboard.

"Come here boy" a large hand grabbed his shoulder, heaving him up and pulling him out of his confinement. His eyes stayed fixed on the wooden floor of the hallway, his head bowed to hide his face out of sight.

"Damn kid has no respect" The man screeched while spit flew out of his mouth. "You will look at me when I speak to you boy"

Boy. That was his name now. The child furrowed his brow trying to remember if they had ever called him his birth name. No, not even once. He had always been just been boy since a year and a half ago when he was placed here. A safe place his mother had told him. A place where he would be a part of a family, would be loved as never before she had said. With wet eyes he lifted his small head to look up at his giant like uncle who seemed to have quite a hard time staying still. The pudding effect, the child thought, biting his lip to contain the laughter that would have escaped otherwise.

"Yes, sir. I am sorry sir" He said, eyes blinking at his uncle through thick framed glasses. Had the adult been anyone else than the child's uncle they would have cooed at the adorable sight that met them, but alas that was not the case. Pushing him towards the kitchen, body behaving as a pudding his uncle bellowed "get on with it you freak. My Dudley is going to wake up soon and will need his breakfast"

"yes" the child said, throwing a glance towards his uncle. With silent steps and as little noise as possible he began cooking breakfast for his family. He had always wondered why his mother had told him he would be staying with family. His family she had said. But, he thought as he turned his head to look at his uncle, they are her family. Aunt is her sister. Not mine. The sizzling sound of bacon was heard while he cracked open the eggs to put them on the frying pan. A shadow fell upon him as his aunt entered the kitchen a glass in her hand. He studied her face, trying to find resemblance between her and his mother but there weren't any. None at all. The only thing they had in common was him. His aunt's freak nephew and his mother's son.

"Aunt petunia?" he asked in a small voice, unsure if he was allowed to speak while cooking. After all, there breakfast had to be perfect if he wanted to be rewarded with food for having done a great job.

"Yes, speak up boy. I don't have time to humour your sick mind"

With a heavy sight he asked "do you know if mother is going to visit me?" Flinching away from her sudden movement and the loud cracking noice of glass being shattered he was forced to look at her, a thin hand with long fingers pressing into the soft skin on his jaw.

"Don't you ever speak of her again, do you hear me?" Her voice was strained, almost painful while a sudden flash of hatred flickered in her dull eyes.

"Y-yes" the child stuttered, realizing that all that had to do with his parents wasn't anything that he should ask about.

"Good." She said looking him in the eyes. "You do realise that the reason they send you here was because they didn't want to raise you right?"

Again the bright green colour of his eyes seemed to dull, becoming more of a freezing emerald before they were filled with unshed tears.

"Yes" he whispered, before the hand let him go. Oh yes, he still remembered. The painful ache in his chest was a constant reminder, but nevertheless he still held hope. His mother had said she loved him. Said that she would visit him. A wet line was formed on his cheek, caused by a lone tear that fell from his face towards the floor. No, he wouldn't cry. Not anymore. If he did, he wouldn't get any breakfast.

Taking the handle with both hands, he lifted the heavy pan and walked towards the table where his so called family was sitting. The long thin woman cooing towards her not so adorable but disgusting looking son, while the yet more disgusting man was watching the interaction with a proud look on his face.

Disgusting, the wind whispered in a hiss like voice in his hear. "_Disgusting_" he repeated, because why should he not repeat the truth when he was looking at it. Even at his young age of 5 he knew that Dudley wasn't any better than him. Yet, they still loved him. Loved him in a way, he thought, as his own parents had loved his younger brother. A love in which he wasn't included in.


	3. Chapter 2

He couldn't look at them. Didn't want to look at them. Even though he tried not to his eyes still sought out his aunt's face. The look on her face was one he was very familiar with even though it had under no circumstances ever been directed at him. He shuffled silently further to see more of her face even though his heart clenched painfully. With wide eyes he saw her hand a beautifully wrapped package to Dudley whose eyes were hungrily eying it. With a jolt harry realized it was a gift. A birthday gift. He couldn't remember the last time he had received one, but it had probably been when he was still living with his parents. Shaking his head he observed with narrowed eyes as Dudley threw the now unwrapped teddy bear towards him with a sneer on his face while he opened his mouth in a copy of his father's, his voice high and screeching

"Mum, I'm not a baby! Give me something bigger. The baby freak can have the bear"

"But dudderkins, didn't you want" Petunia began, only to be stopped by Vernon snarling in the direction of Harry

"You freak. What do you think you are doing outside your cupboard"

Harry looked at him with wide eyes, holding his breath while shakingly taking a step back towards the hallway, his eyes flickering back to the teddy bear that lay within an arm's reach. Dudley's words still rang in his head, and a hope began to claw from deep within him. Lowering his head and slumping his shoulders he peeked up through his bangs while looking at Dudley, slowly tilting his head while blinking several times. The teddy bear, he thought. You don't want the teddy bear. Give it to me, give it to me. The mantra ran in his head several times, and after what felt like minutes but wasn't more than several seconds his cousin's head snapped towards Vernon his voice once again screeching. "Daddy, I'm no baby. He is a baby. Freak is a baby, an ugly ugly baby, who needs his ugly ugly bear"

Vernon's face contorted in a ugly smile while he eyed harry who now had his eyes fixed on his feet in the resemblance of innocence to hide the wide grin of happiness that had spread over his face. It had worked. To think it had worked. His heart was beating loudly and his body was filled with warmth, an electric tingling spreading from his fingertips to run over his spine causing the small body to shiver slightly. Trying to hold onto the feeling he stored the fact that he had made Dudley obey him in the back of his mind while he warily eyed Dudley, who was now strutting towards him with an air of arrogance and superiority. He knew that Dudley wasn't under the influence of the order now, because he had only ordered Dudley to give him the teddy bear, so why was he here, right in front of harry with the teddy bear in hand that he had probably picked up from the ground?

His eyes med Dudley's and a feeling of despair slowly made itself known. Was he going to take it back? But he had told Dudley to give it to him, he couldn't take it back!

"I am not a baby" Dudley began, while looking at him expectantly.

Harry gave a nod while trying to school his features.

"Say it. Say that I am not a baby" Dudley repeated

I am no baby you are, Harry said in his mind fantasizing about Dudley's reaction. Maybe he would become pink like Vernon usually did. Pink, just like a pig, Harry thought, trying to keep his face straight. Clearing his throat he said in an almost whisper only loud enough for him and Dudley to hear.

"You are not a baby"

Dudley gave a small satisfied nod, with a smug grin.

"Say that you are a freak and a baby"

His eyes widened slightly while he stared at Dudley. He knew that if he wanted that bear he had to do what Dudley wanted him to, but..his eyes flickered down to the teddy bear and back to Dudley's eyes that shone with hatred and..a shudder ran though Harry's body as he realised that it actually made Dudley happy to hear him degrade himself. He cleared his throat again and with a straining voice repeated Dudley's words, lowering his eyes while feeling disgusted with himself. Had he really just called himself a freak just so he could have a teddy bear? Now that he thought about it, maybe Dudley was ri-cold wind crept up along his body before he could finish the thought. The cold air settled along his neck, a heavy burden on his shoulders reminding him of his lovely companion that was hiding in the cupboard. He looked up at Dudley, but could see that the other boy couldn't feel the air as he could. Blinking slowly, he widened his eyes slowly at Dudley but before he could even try anything as he had before, Dudley had thrown the teddy bear at him and had already showed him towards the hallway in the direction of his cupboard.

As the door slammed shut, he could hear his uncle's heavy laugher while the words echoed in the small space of the cupboard.

"Good Dudley. Show that freak that you are much better than him. That will put him in his right place, under our, and especially your feet."


	4. Chapter 3

Age 7

To think that the colour red had this many shades. He silently traced his finger above the small square of colour called crimson red. A whisper left his lips as he tasted the name of the colour that was somewhat familiar to him. More familiar than the previous square of colour known as coppery red. Not that he had forgotten her, but for some reason the colour of her hair just left a numb feeling of loneliness inside of him, whereas the thought of crimson red consuming him, surrounding him, left him with a longing he was not able to describe. He gently laid the book beside him on the battered mattress, his eyes not once leaving the example of the colour of crimson red. Whatever or whoever his mind had made a connection to, was not clear to him. He furrowed his brows, a pout gracing his lips. Whoever or whatever he or it was, they obviously were more important than her. His mother. He let out a heavy sigh as he rolled onto his side, drawing up the knees to his chest. Yes, his mother. Sister to aunt petunia. A woman who left his own son to be raised by the people who treated him as if he was an abnormality. A freak. They had left him to live in this hell hole as soon as he had turned five. His gaze flickered, taking in his surroundings inside of the little cupboard. Hell hole indeed. Wasn't a mother supposed to love her children no matter how they turned out to be? His thoughts wandered to his aunt petunia who, no matter what Dudley did, still loved him. If anyone could love his dear cousin, why couldn't his mother love him? No matter how much he had tried to convince himself that she would return, she never did. His hope had slowly left as he had turned 7, after having to celebrate his birthday alone under the small confinement of his cupboard. Two years. There hadn't been a day where he hadn't longed for her to return for him. To tell him how much she loved him. That she would never leave him again. But he could no longer remember her face. The only feature he was sure of was the colour of her hair, but even that never succeeded in making him remember her face. How her eyes had been, whether they had been filled with the same warmth that entered his aunts eyes whenever she looked at Dudley. Did she perhaps have a face like his aunt? He could no longer remember. Maybe she looked like him? The hair that had once been black now held a faint resemblance to the dark colour of dried blood whenever light fell on his hair even though it was still midnight black. His face which had once been round had quickly lost its roundness and his high cheekbones and the soft features of his jaw were now prominent, giving him an entirely different look, now that all his baby fat was lost. His big green eyes had turned into a cool shade of emerald green as happiness had slowly but surely left his life entirely. He knew that even though Dudley and he were cousins, they looked nothing like each other. Neither did they behave as if they were growing up in the same household. His before carefree and happy nature was no longer existent but instead a cold and calculating nature and taken over. Each day analysing how to behave so it would be possible to get food to eat. For him it was all about survival. He had long ago learned the pain of hunger and the constant pain of the loss of the touch of a mother. He was alone, and had to act accordingly.

With closed eyed he lifted his hands, and with his fingertips caressed the empty space in front of him. As he continued the air grew thicker a tingling spreading where it came in contact with his skin on his fingers. His mind slowly drifted, painting his surroundings in the colour he now knew as crimson red. He imagined it colouring the thickness around his fingers, spreading through the air. As he opened his eyes his breath caught in his throat and he abruptly sat up. The air around his finger had now changed colour. How? Was it even possible or was it all his imagination? Maybe he was still asleep and this was all a dream. No, he thought as he watched the coloured air slowly crawl up his skin up to his wrists. Definitely not a dream, he thought again as he moved to scratch the skin on the inside of his left forearm right above his wrist. It almost felt as if the air was slowly sinking inside of his skin, making his heart thunder inside of his chest and the tingling spreading throughout his body as the cloud of colour slowly dissipated. He stared at his forearm, tracing the colour marking his skin with slow strokes, the electric tingling once again returning where his fingertips touched the crimson red. He still couldn't believe what had just happened. So a mysterious colour from his imagination had tattooed him? A grin appeared on his face. Well, so much for not being a freak he thought, as he continued to stare at the tattoo where a beautiful snake had just exited the mouth of a skull. Yes, he thought with a giddy feeling of true happiness surging through him for the first time since he had been left hole. He was indeed not completely normal. Special and better. Better than all of them. He lifted his arm and let his lips grace the skull with a feather light touch, thanking whoever it was that had graced him with his first birthday gift in two years. Maybe this person was the only one he would ever need, besides his trusted snake.


	5. Chapter 4

8 years old

Feather-light steps were almost soundless as he sneaked into the kitchen, brilliant emerald eyes an eerie light in the darkness. Long slim fingers, which seemed almost out of place on his small hands, traced the surface of the kitchen counter, a harsh hiss leaving full lips as they found nothing. Why was it that his dearest aunt had to make him clean the whole kitchen if she couldn't even reward him in the end. Wasn't he her blood relative or was there a piece of information he was missing? Shaking his head in defeat, he tightly wrapped his thin arms around his midsection in hopes of pushing away the overwhelming feeling of being hungry. Blood relative. A sneer formed his lips as he crept along the wall, his back pressed against it, on his way back to his cupboard. If that was how a blood relative treated him, then he certainly would never think of how an enemy would treat him. Working carefully he slowly opened the door of his cupboard, releasing a sigh as it didn't creak. Slipping inside, all that was left now was to close the stupid door again. With a clunk he finally managed to close it, followed by the soft klink when the lock on the outside of his cupboard slid into place.

His hand traced the door in the darkness, his mind lost in the tingling feeling had spread throughout his body from when he had locked the door. Ever since he had been left in this god forsaken place, he had somehow always known that he didn't belong here. Especially not with them. His relatives. Such a plain word for those foul people. His fingernails dug into the almost rotten wood of the door, his whole body tense as he was overcome by the hatred of whoever had left him here. The worst part of it all being that he could no longer remember the circumstances behind his placement with his relatives. The house had been blown up, his relatives had said. He could still remember the spittle that had flown out of his aunt's mouth as she had accused him of being the reason for the "accident" whatever that was. And to think that she had even raised her filthy hand on him. He lightly traced his fingers over the still sore spot left from that morning. How should he have known that asking if his parents were dead would leave him with no food, a handprint across his cheek and spit on his face. He could still remember his uncle's smug look as he had literally thrown him into the cupboard, his left side colliding with the hard wall as his uncle had spat on his face, telling him that he no longer had a place left in this house. Tch, as if he even wanted to be here in the first place. If only someone would… no No! He harshly bit into the soft flesh of his bottom lip to stop such thoughts. If someone had wanted him, they would have saved him from this place long ago. But maybe She didn't know. Maybe his mother didn't know. His chest tightened. No matter what he did, no matter how emotionless he tried to be, he still wished for her to get him. How could he not. He was still only a boy, who longed for her to love him. To feel her fingers carding through his hair, the feeling of a warm motherly hug, and soft words whispered in his ears in the case he woke up from a nightmare. To think that he even had moments where all he wanted was to be in Dudley's place, that stupid whale. What had Dudley done to deserve people who loved him, when he himself had none.

His eyes landed on his left forearm, skin hidden by the long sleeves of one of Dudley's old shirts. He had had for almost a year now. He had even gone so far as to ask one of his teachers what you called drawings that were on the bodies. Eyes downcast, he had made the picture of innocence as he had explained that he had seen a man with drawings on his arm. A tattoo she had called it. He lifted the sleeve as he gazed into the eyes of the snake that slowly slithered out of the mouth of the skull. Tattoo indeed. Even if did move. It was almost..magical. Yes, magical. He savoured the sound of the word, as he knew that whatever it was he could do, couldn't be called anything else than magic. Whether or not it was called something else he didn't know but since his dear aunt always screeched whenever someone said the word, it certainly couldn't be anything else. But then, did she know? Was that why she said that whatever had happened was his fault, because he wasn't normal? He shrugged, as he gazed up, his eyes tracing the underside of the stairs. Locking and unlocking doors whenever he willed it. A mysterious tattoo suddenly appearing on his arm, almost as if ..marking him.

Normal? No he certainly wasn't normal. Neither did he want to be normal. Normal was for people, filthy people like his relatives. No, he was better, much better. And one day, when he found the person who had been so gracious as to mark him with the tattoo that had become his, one of the few things he owned besides the snake that he kept hidden, he would ask him. Ask him to show his relatives who were the better, the superior of them all. With bright eyes he contemplated and planned as he finally fell asleep, his lips still forming silent thanks and grazing the spot where the snake kept itself hidden inside of the mouth of the skull


End file.
